


tile and bone

by Wrenvibes



Category: Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, Cuddling, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kissing, Post-Darklands, Showers, Starvation, bed sharing, breakdowns, canon adjacent, implied PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21781660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrenvibes/pseuds/Wrenvibes
Summary: Once Nomura finally finds somewhere to stay, everything comes crashing down. Luckily, help isn’t as far as she thinks it is.
Relationships: Nomura & Walter Strickler | Stricklander, Nomura/Walter Strickler | Stricklander
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	tile and bone

**Author's Note:**

> minor tw for discussion of weight loss with regards to starvation/food scarcity

The little hotel just on the border of Oregon was poorly lit, the lights casting a sickly yellow glow on the carpet that likely hadn’t been updated since the 70s. The teenager working the counter had been almost comically disinterested, entirely ignoring how dead Nomura looked and just handing her the room key without question. No words, just silence. She looked like she’d seen a lot of people in worse states pass through here.

Nomura had arrived at the hotel in the wee hours of the morning, having driven all day just to get as far out of town as she could. If that hadn’t been exhausting enough, she had had to call the museum. After an hour of persuading, lying, and excuses, she managed to swindle her job back, but it wouldn’t start again for a week or so. Her main focus had been on getting out of Arcadia for a while, anyway. After everything, she needed a change of scenery, badly.

Nomura unlocked the door to her room after a few moments of struggle, her hands trembling slightly from exhaustion. The room held the faint scent of mildew and cheap laundry soap, and she couldn’t help but wonder how long this place had been here. It wasn’t as if it mattered- she was around before it had been, and she would likely be around after it was gone. That is, if she didn’t have any more Order-related mishaps. With the Trollhunter on her good side, the likelihood of that wasn’t very high. For now, though, she was alive. 

The first thing she wanted to do was collapse down on the bed and sleep until the end of time, but that wouldn’t do. It had been... gods, how long since she’d taken a proper shower? It would be better if she didn’t think about it. She took off her shoes and plunked her suitcase down on the bed. The matter of clothes. She had only brought rudimentary belongings with her from her apartment, not wanting to linger too long. People would ask questions, and questions meant even more lies. 

Nomura decided that was something she could figure out after she was clean, and stepped from the small sleeping space into the bathroom. It was clean, but the fixtures were dated- cracked, yellowed tile and a plain sink. Nomura closed the door and fumbled for the clasps of her dress. After a few moments of struggle, she managed to undo it down to mid-back. She shrugged out of the sleeves and easily slipped it over her head, trying to ignore how loose it was. Next went her undergarments, removed quicker, and she tried not to look at herself too much. Her human clothes might be in the same state she left them, but her human body certainly wasn’t. 

When she did finally look up, she was so startled it was as if she’d seen a ghost. A deep, shaky growl sounded in the back of her throat, her eyes flickering green. Somehow, she’d missed the full length mirror on the opposite wall, and she hardly recognized the person that she saw in it. Person. _Person_.

Her skin that usually held a healthy pink-tinted glow was wan and waxen, flaky patches on her arms and face. The usual softness of her face was hollowed-out and thin, and her green eyes were dull. Freshly healed wounds littered her body. A raised scar over her left hip, burn marks over her shoulder, bruises all down her thighs. The remnants, she thought, of the violence she’d seen- those weeks in the darklands, she’d hardly made it out. Claws, ripping against her leg, her fetlock bone nearly shattered through the skin.

That wasn’t the worst of it, to her. Her hair was in dark, grease-ridden clumps, stringing around her face. Every inch of her felt empty and cold- she was thin, thinner than she was used to. Emaciated, thin, pathetic. Nomura could count every rib through her skin, her hip bones and elbows and collarbones jutting starkly. Her stomach was hollow and empty, and the bones in her hands and wrists were more pronounced.

She knew she should be hungry. The last time she’d eaten since she’d escaped the darklands had been- oh, her stomach gave a nauseous lurch at the thought. On her way out of Arcadia she had come across a deer by the side of the road, already half picked over by vultures. She’d only been able to scrounge a bit of offal from it without drawing any attention. That had been yesterday, so she should be hungry.

Instead, the only sensation in her belly was a dull, nauseous ache. The idea of eating roadkill didn’t quite bother her, but it only cemented further the idea that the Darklands stripped her of what humanity she’d had left. 

Nomura tore her gaze away from the mirror and stepped into the shower, turning the water on. She hissed at the cold temperature, and turned the knob as hot as she could turn it, knowing she needed to scrub as much filth off as possible. Steam began to fill the bathroom and she worked her fingers through her knotted, tangled hair, hoping she wouldn’t have to cut it.   
The scratch of her nails and the agonizing pull of knots made her growl, chest heaving.

Her opponents liked to use her hair to her disadvantage, tangle their claws in it and nearly yank out clumps- she’d been held down by her hair and tortured. A bit had been put in her mouth, and whenever she tried to move it would dig into her vulnerable palate, her tongue, and blood would fill her mouth, drip down her chin. 

The hot water here was pathetic, it wasn’t even enough to burn. Once she was satisfied with the state of her hair, she lathered it with the cheap hotel shampoo, and started to scrub her body clean. She was covered in a layer of grime and filth from the weeks she’d spent in the darklands, and she scrubbed at it so hard her skin was raw. She left red marks all over her skin, inflamed pink, painful.

In reaching for the shampoo she’d nearly slipped- her leg protested, and she sighed. Gods, why did she have to be in such a state? Her broken leg had been splinted and would heal fine- changelings healed quicker than most, anyway. She couldn’t exactly wrap the wound to prevent it from getting wet, so she would just dry it well when she got out. That said, it was an annoyance she didn’t want or need. 

As Nomura showered, the sound of the water hitting her skin got more and more unbearable. The loud roar in her ears echoed over and over again, the crashing of rocks around her. The snap of bone, the choking dust that had surrounded her- the scent of cheap hotel soap made her stomach turn. These human comforts, this pathetic attempt to convince herself she was anything other than a monster. Who was she anymore? 

The burn of the water became urgently, awfully clear, but she couldn’t stop it, she couldn’t stop the loud, overwhelming hiss of it. She heard Gunmar’s accusations of treason, of failure, over and over again. Dueling with the young Trollhunter, Little Gynt, convinced that one of them was doomed to die there. She would have, had he not showed up. Had he given up on her, left her there. 

Why? Why was she still here at all? It wasn’t as if she deserved it.   
Nomura’s leg decided on that moment to give beneath her, and she collapsed to her knees in the shower. Silent, heaving sobs wracked her body, the torrent of hot water pouring over her spine. She reached up a hand and turned the water down, trying to do anything to numb the ache, anything. 

Why her? Why had he saved her, after all of that?

She was alone, now. She felt weak and stupid- she could have gone to the order and begged for leniency, she could have found Walter, or Otto, or anyone. Hell, she could’ve stayed in town and worked with Jim and his little friends-

But now she was alone, in an unfamiliar place, in a cheap hotel. The water had turned to a drizzly cold spit, cooling the wounds on her body and making her shiver violently as she sobbed into her hands. Her tears mingled with the ice water, washed away immediately, and she turned off the water completely, lying back on the ground. She tried once, twice to get up, but her legs shook and slipped underneath her, so she ended up a crumpled heap on the freezing bathroom tile. Her shoulders shook as she gasped for breath, over and over. It didn’t feel like she was getting any air no matter how much she breathed. 

It felt like droplets of ice were forming on her skin, burning her back and thighs and hands. The hardly healed wounds from being whipped days earlier sung with sharp, searing pain, and she didn’t think she would ever get up off of the floor. She felt so weak that she thought, perhaps, she would die here, and no one would find her. A pathetic end, really, after having survived the darklands. With every choked whine she exhaled, more tears pooled in her eyes. She couldn’t even sit up, her body was too exhausted- she was done. 

She felt even more pathetic when she heard the faint sound of footsteps. Fantastic, they had finally sent someone to put her out of her misery, and they were going to find her naked and sobbing on the floor. Maybe they wouldn’t kill her out of pity. If anything, that would be even worse.

Her ears were ringing, and she curled up on the floor, her lungs heaving. Every breath hurt, her sore ribs burning with each inhale. Her eyes were glossed over with tears, she couldn’t see anything. She laid on the floor for what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes.

“Zelda?”

The door to the bathroom clicked open and Walt’s familiar voice rang out in the quiet, his tone frantic. She curled in on herself, trying to maintain some form of dignity, and he knelt down beside her, grabbing the nearest towel. “Shhhhh, come here, love, you’re alright- oh, you’re freezing, poor thing-“ He wrapped the towel around her shoulders, rubbing her hands and arms in an effort to get her warm. His skin almost felt burning hot compared to hers, and he took a second towel to wring out her hair. 

“How did you- how did you find me?” Her throat ached like she’d swallowed a handful of gravel. Walt finished patting her hair dry, running his fingers through it to work out the tangles. 

“I scried on you, I had caught word from the Trollhunter and his friends that you had escaped the Darklands with them....” he patted the remaining water from Nomura’s skin with the towel, making her shivering slow slightly. Of course Little Gynt had let the word get out- she was honestly thankful for it. Walter deserved to know more than anyone did.

When he finished, she tried to stand up, but her legs were coltish and wobbly, too weak to support her weight. Her broken leg buckled immediately under the strain, and Walter gasped.“Be careful, now, you’re hurt- you don’t have to get up, it’s all right.” Without hesitation, making sure the towel was secured to protect her modesty, Walter scooped her into his arms. He didn’t seem to have any trouble doing so, despite how he wasn’t reputed for being the strongest individual in the world, and that made Nomura worry more, in the back of her mind. How weak had she really gotten, then, in those weeks? 

He stroked her hair with gentle hands, running through any of the remaining knots. She leaned into his touch, her arms folding around his neck. She was still shivering with cold, and Walter cooed soft little reassurances to her in trollish, nuzzling against her hair.

Nomura remembered when he‘d done that before, when she’d fallen sick in the last century. She’d been restless and feverish, crying out for comfort like an injured whelp. He had come to her in his troll form, cozying up against her to soothe her and help her sleep. Now he was doing it for comfort again, sitting her down on the bed and slipping an arm around her shoulders so she wouldn’t fall over. 

Her eyes were fluttered shut, the tears finally stopping. She felt the press of something soft into her hands and managed to open her eyes enough to see one of her oversized pajama shirts, the kind that came down to her knees.   
“Put it on, love, get warm, you’ve been cold long enough,” Walter turned so he was facing away from her, and she let the towel drop to the floor. She pulled the soft shirt on, the garment far too big on her gaunt frame.

Nomura tapped Walter’s arm for him to turn back around, and his expression softened when he saw her, reaching up to gently cup her cheek with one hand. His fingers traced familiar trails down her jaw, her neck, over her collarbones. “Poor thing, what have they done to you? We’ll get you right as rain, I promise...” Walt leaned in, pressing a kiss to the joint of her jaw. His lips were hot against her neck and she let out a needy little whine, prompting him to press more kisses in a line up her jaw. Finally, he leaned in and ghosted his lips against hers, once and then again.

Then he kissed her for real, and she melted against him, mouth open into the kiss. His hand closed overtop of hers, his lips warm and yielding. “Come to bed, sweet, you need to rest. You’ve been through quite the ordeal, and I know you’ll feel better once you wake,” Walter coaxed, and she nodded, her head drooping against his chest.

“That’s it..... I know, poor thing... shhh,” Walter adjusted his position so he was lying back on the pillows, and Nomura adjusted herself so her head was comfortably pillowed against his chest. He tugged the blankets up over her, rubbing her back with the tips of his fingers in lazy circles.

He was wearing a warm knit sweater, the material cozy and soft against her cheek. His heartbeat was strong and steady in their ears, and with every passing moment they grew more and more sleepy. The warmth from Walter’s body slowly emanated into her, making her thoughts ooze like honey. It felt like they could melt against him entirely, like they’d become a puddle. 

He began to run his fingers through her hair, massaging and scratching his nails lightly over her scalp. It made her keen, a soft purring noise in the back of her throat that only increased in volume as she continued and ended with a tiny whimper. She felt so weak and exhausted that she couldn’t even lift her head to look at him, her limbs felt as heavy as lead.

Nomura let out a small whine and Walter shushed her, kissing the crown of her head. He reached over to click the lamp off and the darkness kissed Nomura’s brain, soothing her feverish thoughts. That, along with Walter’s heartbeat, was enough to lull her fast asleep, finally able to rest. 


End file.
